


Everything I Ask For

by artem_ace



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: AU, Angst, Cheating, Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-03-20 08:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3642741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artem_ace/pseuds/artem_ace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason's suicide note. Very angsty. Very ooc. based on a prompt I received on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_"Don’t be so sensitive."_ **  
**

This was said as a joke, but the words struck a cord. I thought you wanted me to be sensitive. I thought my sensitivity was what drew you to me. You never told me I was being too sensitive when I held you while you cried, or when I listened to your hopes and fears. Everything you were too afraid to show to other people.

You told me I was the only one you could talk to, that I, out of all people, understood you. I guess that made me feel special. We both know I’ve always had a tendency to fix broken things, like you have a tendency for breaking them.

I guess once my sensitivity is no longer useful, it becomes a hindrance to someone like you.

* * *

_"God, you’re such a girl.”_

Ouch. This one digs deep and you know it. It’s not the comparing of myself to a woman that’s degrading, rather the connotations it brings.

My father said this too many times (don’t pretend you don’t know, I know you do) and it means I’m weak.

Too weak to hold up the weights you’ve bestowed on me, too weak to bear every scar you’ve carved into my chest, displayed like they were badges of honor.

I’ve always been told to be strong. Not just strong, but strong _enough_. And if I wasn’t strong enough, I needed to _become_  strong enough. When we first met, it worried you that I worked out so much.

Now it worries you that I can’t continue to hold up the wall you’ve built between us. The jokes about my weight, casually mentioning that I don’t fill out my shirts like I used to. I noticed. The way you meant for me to notice. I started going to the gym again, throwing myself into exercise like I did before I knew it was okay to be me.

Now I know it’s not. So I go, and I lift, and I run, and I push, and I push, and  _I push myself_  until eventually I push myself over the edge and land in the deep murky cavern that exists inside my mind. No one can touch me here, yet I still push myself because if only I were faster, better, bigger, _stronger,_ I could climb out of this lonely hole and then maybe you’ll come running to my arms like you used to.

Maybe if my arms were like _his_ , then you would

* * *

_"It was only sex."_

This one is just a blatant lie. It’s not “just sex,” nothing is ever  _just_ sex. There are always strings attached.

What makes it worse is that we were “just sex.” And then we weren’t. Because that’s not how it works. Because sex produces emotions and I know you feel something for him or it wouldn’t keep happening again. And again.  _And again_. Over and over, the scene repeats in my mind until I’m driven insane and just looking at you makes me feel dirty.

I feel dirty. And weak. And useless. And I should hate you. But I don’t. Because even after all this, every word out of your mouth drives me deeper into my own self loathing until I can’t even look at my reflection.

_"It’s not you, it’s me."_

Everything is always me.

I see him and I think if only I had tried more, worked harder, loved greater,-even if I was better in bed, you wouldn’t feel the need to run to him.

(there’s a small part of my brain that knows you would, no matter what, because that’s what people like you do.)

There was a post I saw not too long ago. It made me think of you. It was a comic of this stuffed bear. He happened to stumble upon another bear and immediately fell in love. It was broken, and he tore himself apart to fix it. It awoke only to be met with a shell of a bear who once was, and was disgusted by the lack of everything he didn’t have, everything he gave up for it. It left him for a perfect, whole, complete bear.

At least it had the decency to leave. The bear was able to find love in someone who was willing to sacrifice everything he had to fix what someone else had toyed with. I’m glad he got his happy ending.

But  _you_ , you’re still here trying to convince me to stay because “it didn’t mean anything.” (do we mean anything?) And we both know that I couldn’t leave you. Because you’re  _you_ , and I’m _me_  and what would I be without you to berate me? I’m coming undone.

When a squirrel is being pursued, it’s immediate reaction is to escape by climbing a tree. But what if it’s pursuer can climb as well? The squirrel is left with a choice. Confront the predator head on or jump from the tree (either choice results in near certain death). Die or die, that’s the choice, I guess.

You know what you are in this analogy. I know what I am. This is me jumping, I guess.

I think I hear you unlocking the door to the apartment.

I had more to say, but I guess I’ll cut it short, you’ll be in here soon. I love you. I’m sorry I wasn’t everything you wanted. I’m sorry for loving you.

Bye - Jason.

* * *

_"Jason, I’m home!"_

_[BANG]_

_"Jason?? Are you o- OH MY GOD-"_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on writing this but multiple people asked for a sequel with Nico's reaction so here you go. be sad i guess.

The blanket was a scratchy, uncomfortable, way too heavy, and the color of Pepto bismol. Still, it smelled like  _him_  and so Nico tightened the wool fabric around himself. Somewhere in the distance he could hear the sound of a television playing. Was it his? The TV was always on wasn’t it? But the sound was so distorted it couldn’t possibly in the lounge with him. If the TV was on in here, it wouldn’t sound like it was underwater. The TV wasn’t on.

Except the TV _was_ on, something Nico found out when he looked up from his now cold pasta to find a news anchor on the screen. There was a picture of a mug shot in the corner of a screen, a bald man with beady eyes and a tattoo curling from his eyebrow to around his throat.

The screen turned dark without warning and his vision was replaced by an obstructing hand waving in front of his face.

“Nico?” the hand said, pulling him out of his thoughts. It wasn’t the hand talking, it was Derek. Nico had forgotten he was still here. “I’ve been calling you for ten minutes.”

Derek took Nico’s lack of reply as a signal to pull the blanket off of the smaller man’s shoulders. When the blanket fell off, Nico felt bile rising in throat, and he tugged the blanket out of Derek’s grasp, cradling the object to his chest.

The plate of tasteless pasta was moved to make room for Derek as he sat on the coffee table. “It’s been three weeks, Nico. I’m tired of you moping around all the time.”

At this, Derek attempted to reach for his hands, but Nico pulled away in disgust.

“He’s dead.” Nico’s voice was stronger than he expected, but shaky nonetheless. “I’m sorry if my  _moping_  is bothering you, but my  _boyfriend_  is dead and it’s  _my_  fault.”

Derek was obviously exasperated by this speech. Jason’s suicide was the only thing Nico had talked about since it happened. He removed himself from the table and walked to the other side of the room.

“It’s his fault, technically,” Derek insisted, picking at his nails like the topic bored him. “I mean he’s the one who pulled the trigger.”

The image of Jason’s lifeless body bleeding out on the floor of their bedroom flashed across Nico’s mind. Something was making it harder to breathe, something constricting his chest, every time he thought about walking home to their shared apartment, only to find his boyfriend dead, his desk empty save for the note with Nico’s name written on it.

The note, the last remaining piece of Jason Grace, it tore Nico’s heart to shreds. Jason had known,  _of course_  he’d known, he knew Nico better than himself. But he stayed silent, allowing Nico to drive the dagger in more. And Derek, _god,_ Derek was still here, standing in the lounge, standing in _his_  place.

“He killed himself because I was sleeping with you.” Not that Derek needed a reminder. He was well aware of why Jason offed himself. It was written there on the letter, in plain black ink. No questions remained.

None of his friends offered their consolations, why should they? Nico doesn’t blame them. Nobody could hate him more than he hated himself.

“He killed himself because I am the most disgusting excuse for a human being. I made him feel like complete  _shit,_  and the worst part is I could see him hurting and I was too selfish to stop.” There was a lump and Nico’s throat that hadn’t disappeared since forming during the funeral and even now it was almost impossible to swallow.

“He deserved so much better than me.”

 

Nico closed his eyes as the words from Jason’s last words reply in his mind, haunting him. _‘We both know I’ve always had a tendency to fix broken things, like you have a tendency for breaking them.’_ The bile in his throat was rising still, and Nico felt sick _. ‘...that’s what people like you do.’_

People like Nico. People who cheat and lie and put others down for their own pleasure. _‘And we both know that I couldn’t leave you… This is me jumping… I’m sorry for loving you.’_ Tears threatened to spill out of Nico’s eyes, but he held them back as Derek reached out for him.

“You’re wonderful, Neeks,” Derek assured him, pulling Nico into his lap. But he wasn’t wonderful. He was a murderer.

“No.” His objection was accompanied by the action of scooting away from Derek. The blanket threatened to fall off his bony frame, but Nico clutched it between his pale fingers, refusing to let go.

Derek placed a heavy hand on Nico’s shoulder. It was meant to be a comforting gesture, but it only weighed Nico down more. He shrugged it off.

The other man frowned. “Babe, why don’t we try and make you feel better?” he suggested with a coy smile. “I’ll make you forget all about him.”

Nico glared at him, slapping away the hand that was trying to wander up his thigh. “What the fuck, Derek?” He moved even further away. “Jason isn’t some ex I’m trying to get over, he was my boyfriend who I found  _dead_  in our apartment because of  _me._  Show some goddamn respect.”

“Hey, babe, don’t be like that-”

“Touch me one more time and I’m never going to speak you again.”

Derek retracted his hand away. Then he stood.

“You know, I don’t understand why you’re mad at _me,”_ he said angrily, his voice rising. “I’m not the one who cheated on him. _I’m_  not the one who insulted him, and lied to him, and made him feel like a worthless piece of trash. That’s all on you, Nico.

 _“You_  are the reason-”

“Get out,” Nico spat.

Derek stilled. _“Excuse me?”_

“Get the  _fuck_ out of my apartment, Derek.”

He was gone in seconds, taking his coat with him, and with it his company. Nico was left alone with his thoughts.

The dull pink blanket no longer provided comfort, just memories of Jason and what Nico did to him. Still, it was the only thing that Nico could look at without crying. He hadn’t been in their room since Jason’s sister came to get his things, opting instead to sleep on the couch.

But he wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight. Not in this apartment, the one that was meant to be a home, not a casket. He couldn’t be here anymore.

Every wall, every tile, every piece of furniture reminded him of Jason and what this life should have been for the two of them. But Nico changed. He ruined everything for them. He deserved this hell, he did, but he was too weak to stay here.

“Hazel?” he asked when she finally answered the phone. It was almost midnight. “Can you call the realtor people tomorrow? I-I know I said I would be fine, but I’m not, I’m really not, and I just can’t- I can’t be here anymore.”

* * *

 

He found a new apartment easily. But even this change of scenery couldn’t rid him of the memories. There was no escape. Nico didn’t deserve to get away that easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not happy with this but it's whatever.

**Author's Note:**

> so um yeah. i tried not to be too graphic bc yeah. um sadness? okay yep well pls review. as always you can contact me via tumblr  
> main blog: artem-ace.tumblr.com pjo blog: demi-will-solace.tumblr.com


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